Tuesday, February 18, 2020

Memory Magic by C.V. Leigh


The Kincaid family is still recovering. Betrayal and secrets have ripped them apart.

Alistair Kincaid sends his lycanthrope brother, Jacob, to America to track down the witches who can help save his sister-in-law, Megan. On his flight, he meets Lauren Summers, who he learns is a witch, and might be the key to undoing Megan’s curse, as well as his way back into the family fold.

When Lauren takes Jacob to Salem, it becomes apparent that she has her own reasons for helping him. She introduces him to the strange world of magic, revealing the truths behind myths and legend.

However, not all secrets have been revealed, and when someone from Jacob’s past makes an appearance, he’s left with difficult decisions to make.

Can Jacob control his growing feelings for Lauren, and keep his mind on saving his family? The battle has been won, but a war is brewing...

• • •

Lauren Summers sucked the lemon juice from the jet-black polish on her nails, never once letting her green gaze stray from the foreboding figure of Jacob Kincaid. He sat on the other side of the aisle, his blue eyes closed. She grazed her teeth over her thumb, before licking it clean, and savoured the acidic citrus sliding down her throat. Picking up the little plastic cup, she then drained what was left of the gin and tonic and dropped the naked peel onto the remaining ice cubes yet to melt.

“Can I get another?” she asked when an air hostess passed by, picking up empty cups and cans, and dropping them into a black bag hanging off the end of her trolley.

“Of course,” the hostess replied with a fake smile. She took tins from the cart, snapped them open, then placed them on the cream tray in front of Lauren, along with a clean cup. “Ice and lemon?”

“Thanks,” Lauren said, peering at the man opposite. He fascinated her. He had since the first moment she’d laid eyes on him.

She’d been following the Kincaid family for weeks. Well… Nathan Trevell, actually. When he left the safety of the pack assigned to him, the Council of American Paranormal Activity had sent her to track him down. It didn’t take him long to find the youngest Kincaid boys, then follow them up to Faol Hall, hidden away in the Cairngorms of Scotland. Lauren had kept on his tail, but not closely enough. And now he was dead—killed by Tess Lowry, girlfriend of Zane Kincaid.

Unable to retrieve the magic Nathan had stolen from the witches, Lauren had thought she might be able to return to Boston, but CAPA, and her mother, had other ideas.

“Mr. Kincaid?” The air hostess gave him a genuine smile.

Lauren thought most women must smile at Jacob. He was one of those men who was perpetually brooding, with an air of mystery worn around him like a superhero’s cape. He was also incredibly attractive, with piercing blue eyes she could have drowned in, and wavy red-brown hair that fell to just above his shoulders, she wanted to run her fingers through.

Lauren caught her breath and put her hormones in check. He was just another job—nothing more. He was also a werewolf; a huge no-no. Witches and werewolves were forbidden to be friends, let alone have an intimate relationship. They were incompatible, genetically.

“Whisky,” Jacob grunted, and the woman poured another drink into a clean cup before handing it to him.

Despite their spacious business class seats, Jacob still managed to fill his with his broad frame; his body rippled with muscle a weightlifter would have envied, threatening to tear his shirt if he moved awkwardly. His strong jaw was covered in a short brown beard, a shade darker than his hair, which he had a habit of raking his fingers through when he thought.

“Would either of you like a final snack before we land?” the air hostess asked.

“No thanks,” Lauren said graciously. Jacob shook his head, and the air hostess continued down the aisle, asking the same question to other passengers.

“You’re making me uncomfortable,” Jacob grumbled, not looking at her. He picked up his drink and took a swig, hissing when the golden liquid hit the back of his throat. She’d been listening to him speak with that delicious accent for several hours now. The soft Scottish lilt of his deep tone was soothing, and she hadn’t grown bored of it. She didn’t think she ever would.

His elbow hung over the armrest, vibrating in time with the plane’s engines. They’d entered American airspace and had begun their descent.

“Tell me more about yourself.” She relaxed into her seat and adjusted the seatbelt’s buckle. Quickly, she glanced around the rest of the compartment. Were there were any other members of the paranormal community onboard—anyone she needed to be concerned about? It was part of her training to always be alert, although she figured Jacob’s heightened senses would probably identify a possible threat before she could.

“You seem to know enough already.” He pressed back into the headrest. The muscle that lined his cheekbone ticced.

“Yeah, about your company and family, but not about you. Not anything personal, anyway. We’ve been sat on each other’s laps for almost half a day, and I still don’t know anything about you.”

• • •


Originally from the Nottingham/Lincoln borders, C.V. Leigh now lives in Somerset with her family and pets. She comes from a long line of natural witches, and spent her childhood learning to read tea leaves from her grandmother and Tarot from her mother, so it's no surprise that she has a love for the fantastical and paranormal.
When she's not creating new worlds, C.V. enjoys reading with a hot cup of tea, or exploring the beautiful countryside that Somerset has to offer.

C.V. Leigh's favourite authors include Kelley Armstrong, George R.R. Martin, Douglas Adams, Grant Naylor, Terry Pratchett, and Roald Dahl.

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Tuesday, February 11, 2020

Violet Spirit by Abbey MacMunn


A half human, half alien.

A violet-eyed shapeshifter.

Their destinies bound by magic from a disappearing world.

Ever since free-spirited Lexie Mills learned she was half human, half alien, her life has been far from ordinary. But living a privileged life in a Cotswold manor with her over-protective family isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and not helped by her confusing feelings for her best friend, Drew.

Evoxian shapeshifter, Drew Morgan, longs to tell Lexie he’s her destined soulmate, but until she embraces her alien heritage, he must wait. Trouble is, staying in the friend zone proves harder than he thought.

Tensions sizzle and chemistry sparks between them, but as their friendship blossoms into something magical, Lexie uncovers a heart-breaking truth about Drew and she must make a choice…

Forgive Drew and accept her destiny, or decide her own Fate?

• • •

Good little Lexie Mills always did as she was told, right?

Wrong. Not anymore.

Her stomach churned, but there was no going back now. She had to do this for her own sanity.

Three sets of violet eyes stared expectantly at her.

Lexie’s gaze flitted around the opulent sitting room of Hawton Hall, the eighteenth-century Cotswold manor she felt privileged to call home, but it was also a gilded cage.

She blurted it out before she lost her nerve. “I want to get a job.” Now for the repercussions.

The room fell silent, as she’d predicted.

Scents of beeswax and decades-old fabrics mingled with the aromatic, seasoned oakwood that burned inside the huge Georgian fireplace. The antique clock ticked monotonously on the mantlepiece, like the calm before the storm.

“Over my dead body,” Drew declared, his sudden hostility taking her by surprise.

Her heart sank. She’d expected more from him, at least hoped he would be on her side.

From the moment she’d met Drew—when her mum learned of her alien heritage—he’d impressed her with his shape-shifting abilities. He’d become like a big brother and a best friend wrapped into one, her confidant, the person who made her laugh when everything had changed so rapidly, and he was usually so amicable. But not today, it seemed.

Drew folded his giant arms, drawing her attention to the striking tattoo of the naghari that snaked around his forearm, a fearsome creature he could morph into in three seconds if he wanted to. His jaw tightened, and his expression took on an arrogant stubbornness, evoking a sudden urge within to slap him across his handsome face.

What right does he have to tell me what I can and can’t do?

She looked to her parents, pleading they would understand her need for independence.

“You don’t need a job, love,” her mum, Bree, told her. “It’s not as if we need the money anymore.”

Yeah right, because her Evoxian royal heritage, and the numerous properties and land on Earth her family owned, meant she could buy anything and everything she could ever want.

Everything except her freedom.

• • •



Abbey MacMunn writes paranormal and fantasy romances. She lives in Hampshire, UK, with her husband and their four children.

When she’s not writing, she likes to watch films and TV shows – anything from rom-coms to superheroes to science fiction movies.

She is a proud member of the Romantic Novelists' Association.

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